


I will always find you

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, John to the Rescue, M/M, POV Multiple, Sherlock is a Damsel in Distress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: Sherlock gets himself in trouble during a case and ends up with his life in mortal danger. With no way out there is nothing he can do but wait.Will John be able to rescue him in time?Mild angst with some fluffy scenes and a first kiss. :)





	1. Sherlock

The water is freezing and already much of my body is going numb. Small waves lap against me as the tide continues to slowly turn and I realise with a shiver of fear it is halfway up my chest. Time is rapidly running out and there is still no sign of John. 

With a sigh I let my head fall back against the wooden post I am tied to and once again curse myself for my reckless stupidity. I have only myself to blame for this. What sort of idiot goes after a known serial killer all by themselves? Oh yes, that's right. I'm the huge idiot who keeps doing things like that. Well it looks like it is actually going to get me killed this time. Up above me I can hear heavy footsteps crossing the wooden jetty and boarding the tourist boats that will show them the sights of London, but I am unable to call for help thanks to the rough gag stuffed into my mouth. It's ridiculous really. This is one of the busiest parts of central London with literally thousands of people passing through and none of them know I am here. It is an incredibly lonely way to die. 

Another wave washes over me and I notice with alarm that drops of it are able to splash against my face. Damn it! It must be an unusually high tide today, meaning there is even less time for John to get here. Because he is definitely coming- there is no way he would leave me here. With this thought in mind, and feeling a little more hopeful then before, I lift my head up a little higher, trying to buy myself a little more time, and tug at the ropes around my wrists. Despite the water soaking them there is still no give and I can only assume the ropes have been coated in plastic. The serial killer wouldn't want his victims to escape after all. 

I let out a muffled scream of anger. Not caring how much it will hurt I desperately try to pull the ropes apart using strength alone. All I succeed in doing is scraping away already tender skin and quickly give it up. Warm liquid trickles down my numb fingers and for a moment I hope somebody might notice blood in the water and send the alarm... Come on Sherlock, you know that would never happen. Nobody could spot something so small amongst the vastness of the Thames. I have to accept the situation is hopeless and nobody is coming to save me. The only ray of hope is that at least the cold will get to me before the water does. I have long since gone past the point of feeling cold and a pleasant warmth is now seeping into every part of my body. I am struggling to keep my eyes open and only the thought of John stops me from giving into the darkness. I also do not want a fight to the last memory I have of him; especially since he was basically right. Going off alone on this case was not the best idea I have ever had. 

Another wave crashes into me, the slight saltiness of the water stinging my eyes. Some of the water forces its way round the gag in my mouth and I choke, feeling a shiver of fear course through me. I have lifted my head as high as it can go but the river is now lapping at the underside of my chin. I swallow hard, wondering how I have not noticed how high it was getting. The shock must finally be starting to get to me if I am unable to think straight. Another jolt of fear runs through me. Where are you John? I know I hurt your feelings with some of the things I said but I thought you would still come for me. I am not ready to die! 

At that moment, just as I realise how hopeless my situation really is, I am aware of my body giving up. Maybe it would be better if I let go and allowed the river to take me... It's oddly warm and comfortable, and it would be so easy to just stop fighting and let the water in. Darkness gathers at the edges of my vision and my eyes flicker shut briefly before I force them up again. It takes an alarming amount of effort. Next time I am not sure if I'll be able to open my eyes. 

Then, from somewhere close by, there is the sound of a splash followed by cries of alarm from people on the jetty. One of the voices sounds familiar and it takes my numb brain a moment to realise where I have heard it before. Lestrade? But that can't be possible, can it? It has to be a hallucination brought on by shock as my mind tries to trick me into one more burst of hope. I however refuse to give into it. All I want is to drift away in peace... 

To my annoyance the sound of splashing grows louder, almost as though somebody has decided to go for a swim- which in the middle of January would be a pretty stupid thing to do. So maybe it isn't an hallucination after all. My curiosity getting the better of me I open my eyes, and find myself face to face with a very worried, and very cold looking John. 

"Sherlock! Sherlock? Can you hear me? You need to stay awake, you need to stay with me. Greg, I've found Sherlock! I need help!" He shouts, his teeth chattering together so much that his voice physically shakes. 

John wraps his arms around me and tugs at the rope around my wrists, quickly giving up when he realises just how tight they are. He turns instead to keeping my head above the water, cradling it gently. I can not help but notice how was his body is against mine. I want to say something to him but I can't make my numb lips form the words. "Greg!" John calls up, "Bring a knife with you." 

Seconds later there is another splash and Greg appears beside John. His face goes white when he sees me. "Sherlock! Oh god, look at what that bastard's done to you." He says with anger in his voice. Swimming behind me he begins sawing at the rope, cursing under his breath the entire time. 

I begin to drift, unable to keep my eyes open any longer. John calls out to me but I am unable to understand what he is saying. His voice echoes as though we are standing at opposite ends of a long tunnel. I can't even feel his arms around me any more. A wave of darkness rises up and sweeps over me, pulling me down to a place I am not sure I will be able to climb back out of... 

* * * * 

"Greg, we're losing him!" 

"I'm working as fast as I can!" 


	2. John

I think my heart actually stopped for a second when I laid eyes on Sherlock. Thank god we found him in time. Much longer and...the memory of it makes me feel sick and I hastily push it aside, focusing instead on Sherlock's sleeping face. Despite his ordeal he looks so peaceful and I can only hope he is able to forget about what happened for a little while. Personally I know I won't be able to forget it in a hurry and that the sight will be burned into my mind for years to come. I hate that I was proved right; that something terrible was bound to happen without me there to watch his back. Sometimes it's far better being wrong. 

I bury my face in my hands and take several deep breaths, trying to hold back the tears stinging at my eyes. This is all my fault. If we hadn't argued he never would have gone off on his own and none of this would have happened! And if that wasn't bad enough, all I can do is sit here and pray he will wake up again because I honestly don't know what I'll do if he dies. The thought is enough to cause a wave of sorrow to rise and threaten to engulf me. For now I refuse to give into it- not when there is still hope Sherlock will recover. 

Then, almost as though the universe was listening to me, I hear the faint rustle of bed sheets followed by a quiet, barely audible voice, "John, you came for me." 

Thank god! Swallowing hard I slowly raise my head and find myself gazing into a familiar pair of glazed looking blue eyes that still, despite everything that has happened, still contain their usual spark. Happiness wells up and bursts from me in a sob. Embarrassed, I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle it. Thankfully Sherlock simply smiles at me, obviously glad to be alive, which is much better than the sarcastic comment I was expecting. 

"Of course I came for you. No matter where you are or how far you go I will always find you, Sherlock." I say in a shaky voice choked with emotion, gently placing a hand on his cheek before leaning forward to rest my forehead against his. "You need to stop scaring me like that. I thought I'd really lost you this time." I reach up to wipe away my tears with my other hand. 

Sherlock reaches up and places his hand over mine. His skin is still colder then it should be but it is nowhere near as bad as when we first pulled him out of the Thames. Back there his skin literally felt like ice. There is a look in his eyes, one which I have never seen before and I feel my heart flutter slightly in response. What he says next however sends a cold shiver running down my spine. 

"I really thought I was going to die back there. For a moment I didn't think you were coming." He says in a quiet voice. There is a sorrowful expression on his face and I realise with horror how much his experience has affected him. Sherlock has never admitted anything like that to me before. 

My heart goes out to him and, without really thinking of the consequences (either due to shock or being emotionally overwrought I don't know), I press my lips against his in a tender kiss. It only lasts a few seconds. I immediately draw back when I feel Sherlock tense and a wave blush of mortification creeps up my cheeks. What the hell was I thinking? I don't even know if Sherlock feels the same way! I look away, not wanting to meet his eye and see his reaction. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." I stutter as I go to stand up and walk away. 

I don't even make it two steps before Sherlock grabs my wrist tightly. "John. Wait." He says in a thick sounding voice. He gently tugs me back towards him and I go without resistance, wanting to believe that, just maybe, he feels the same way I do. I know it's daft to hope for such things but I can't help it. Almost losing the person you care about most in the world makes you realise something's aren't worth keeping secret. "I can't believe it took almost dying for me to realise this but," He pauses and looks me directly in the eye, " I love you John." 

I can hardly believe it. This has to be a dream, right? Somehow I resist the urge to give myself a hard pinch. "Really?" I ask incredulously before a sudden thought comes to me. "Wait. Are you in love with you or do you love me because I just saved your life?" I hold my breath, dreading what the answer might be and yet, at the same time, desperately wanting to hear it. I am aware it makes little sense but then when have feelings ever been known to be logical? 

A slow smile spreads across Sherlock's face in reply and he pulls me down onto the bed beside him. I resist slightly, conscious of the bandages wrapped around the wounds on his wrists caused by the rope, but freeze in place when Sherlock's other hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt. The touch of his fingers against my bare skin sends jolts of electricity coursing through me. "I'm in love with you, you idiot. I would have thought you'd have picked up on the signs by now." He leans down and lightly kisses the side of my neck. "I'm a little disappointed John." He says before letting out a hiss of pain. 

I immediately pull back and am alarmed to see his face has gone pale. "You need rest Sherlock. You've been through an ordeal." I go to stand up (admittedly a little reluctantly but I can't be selfish) and leave him in peace but he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, burying his face in the back of my neck. 

"Don't leave me John, not again. I-I need you to stay with me." He murmurs, his voice trembling slightly. 

After what happened I am not surprised he doesn't want to be left alone and I have to admit I wasn't entirely comfortable leaving. I swear I am never letting him out of my sight again. With a sigh I shift into a more comfortable position. I am aware of the tension leaving Sherlock's body as he drifts off to sleep. "Goodnight." I murmur quietly, still unable to believe this is really happening. 

"G'night" comes the sleepy, barely audible reply. 

A smile spreads across my face. You know, I think I could get used to be this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and commented on my story. It's incredible that people are enjoying my random scribblings. :)


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